


Not My Enemy

by seraphina_snape



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Episode Related, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Uneasy Allies, pre-Chris Argent/Derek Hale, someone thinks they're dating, unlikely allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3412127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Chris take care of Allison's body while the pack deals with the nogitsune. Derek realizes some things about Chris Argent and their relationship that he wasn't ready to see before. (kind of AU of 3x24)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not My Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this after 3x23 aired, but couldn't get it finished in time to post it before 3x24 aired and completely jossed it. But a friend and I talked about Derek and Chris a while ago, so I decided to unearth it, finish it and post it. Enjoy!

Derek arrives at a scene that is very familiar and uncomfortably personal, with Scott cradling his dead first love. Lydia and Stiles schlep themselves outside just as he steps up and Scott struggles to put Allison down and focus on Stiles. 

Noshiko says, "We can't do anything until dawn. Now that the nogitsune has control of the oni, he's much too strong in the darkness of night. I can--"

"No," Kira interrupts her mother. "I think you've done enough." 

"Kira--"

"No," Kira cuts her off again, more forcefully this time. "We're going to save Stiles, kill the nogitsune and make sure that Allison didn't die for nothing. I know at least one of these things isn't on your list for today, so why don't you just _go_?" 

Noshiko presses her lips together, eyes downcast. 

Kira turns back to the others, resolutely not looking what her mother does or doesn't do. She catches Scott's eye and gives him an encouraging look. He shoots one back that is very much the same. 

Derek watches helplessly, uselessly from the sidelines as Stiles nearly collapses. They all fuss over him until he bats their hands away says he has an idea. Scott hesitates and turns back to Allison, running his hand over her hair. 

That's when Chris breaks. 

"Go," he says hoarsely. 

Scott just looks at him blankly. 

"Go," Chris repeats. "Save your friend. It's what--" He breaks off, looking down at his daughter's peaceful face. 

It's what Allison would have wanted. 

Scott nods, slowly, but he doesn't get to his feet until Derek takes a few steps forward, standing at Chris' back. 

"Go," he echoes Chris' words. "We'll take care of her." 

Scott and Isaac exchange a look. Isaac turns his head away first. He gives Derek a devastated but determined nod and then walks over to where Stiles is leaning against the wall, Lydia clinging to him, both to keep him upright and to keep herself going. 

Scott passes Derek on his way to the others. He reaches out, a small brush of arms, and Derek wishes they could have had this under better circumstances. The pack coming together, exchanging help and comfort and showing how much they trust each other. He'll never be the biggest fan of any Argent - certainly not Allison's - but this isn't what he wanted, not for Allison and not for Chris. 

"We need to leave," Derek says once silence settles over the abandoned camp. The silence seems louder than ever in the absence of Stiles' clanking jeep and the jumbled mess of erratic heartbeats and quiet sobbing. "Arg--Chris. We can't stay here." 

They're sitting ducks, vulnerable and open to attack. Between the nogitsune, the oni and the unknown hunters, there are precious few safe places left in town. 

"I'm not leaving her." 

"I wasn't suggesting it," Derek says. He squats down on Allison's other side. "Can I?"

Chris glares at him for a moment, but he doesn't reach for his gun. He doesn't even say anything, just silently gets to his feet and digs his car keys out of his pocket. 

Derek picks her up carefully, making sure her head doesn't roll back. She feels light as a feather, like all the weight she's been carrying has been lifted. Maybe it has. Maybe she's in a better place now. 

They can only hope. 

Once Allison is laid out in the backseat of Chris' car, Derek silently holds out his hand. 

Chris' eyes narrow. "I can drive my own damn car." 

Derek raises his eyebrows. "Can you?" 

They both look down at Chris' shaking hands. 

Derek hisses when Chris slaps the keys into his hand hard enough that the sharp edge of them bites into the flesh between his thumb and his index finger. The wound heals instantly, but Chris' eyes are fixed on the small specks of blood that are left behind. 

"I--I'm sorry."

"It's nothing." Derek wipes his hand on his jeans. When he looks up again, Chris is still staring, his eyes watery. 

"I am so sorry." 

Frowning, Derek hesitates. He has a feeling Chris isn't apologizing to him. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for, let alone to whom. "It's okay," he says, quietly. 

Chris sits in the passenger seat, but his head is turned, keeping a watchful eye over Allison. Derek knows that all the staring and wishing in the world isn't going to bring her back to life, but he doesn't tell Chris to stop, to accept the inevitable. This is not the time, not yet. So he pretends he doesn't notice the silent tears or Chris' aborted attempts to reach out and touch his daughter's empty shell. 

Derek drives carefully at exactly the speed limit - no need to take risks now or grab the attention of the cops - until they reach the run-down side of town, near the docks. The area isn't exactly crawling with the kind of people who wouldn't hesitate to kill a young woman wandering the streets alone at night, but it's the best he can do in Beacon Hills. 

Derek parks the car and Chris' head jerks up. He looks around and turns to face Derek, at once resigned and belligerent. "I'm not leaving her here." 

Derek sighs. Starting an argument isn't going to help either one of them. 

"We can't take her home," Derek says. "There will be an investigation. We need this to have no connection to the supernatural. You know that." 

Chris presses his trembling lips together, eyes downcast. He takes several deep breaths, like he needs to steel himself. The shaking in his shoulders subsides and he meets Derek's gaze with emotionless, shaded blue eyes. "You call 911, I set the scene." 

Derek watches through the windows as Chris positions Allison's body, tenderly arranging her limbs and head to make it look like someone had carelessly thrown her aside. When Chris reaches out to carefully drape some hair over Allison's face, Derek turns away. There's a pay phone at the end of the block, right underneath a flickering street light. The malfunctioning light is the only one on the street that's still working - at least some of the time. 

He calls 911 and keeps it as short as he can, telling them the address and that he saw some guys dump a body in an alley. When the 911 operator asks for his name, Derek hangs up and jogs back to the car. 

Chris is back in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. 

Derek can almost feel the tension pouring off of Chris, his muscles heating up with the effort not to run to his dead daughter's side. Derek puts the car in drive and takes the quickest route out of the neighborhood, avoiding the spots he knows have traffic cameras installed. It's only minutes later that he can hear sirens heading the way they just came from, but if Chris can hear them, too, he's not giving any indication. 

Argent's apartment building has an underground parking garage, but Derek parks behind the building to avoid the cameras. 

"Any cameras in the hallways?" 

"Just the elevators," Chris says. "Guess we'll be taking the stairs." 

It's not a problem. The apartment is on the top floor, but Derek barely feels the strain on his muscles. Chris is panting by the time they reach the top, but he doesn't complain. He simply motions for the keys still clasped in Derek's fingers and opens the door, keying in the alarm code as soon as he steps inside. Derek follows him in, closing the door when Chris moves down the hallway. 

"You can leave now," Chris says, not turning around. 

"Alibi," Derek counters. "We were here all evening." 

Chris' head comes up and his shoulders tense. Derek expects to be tossed out, accompanied by angry words and maybe a jab with Chris' taser. Instead, Chris drops his jacket on the couch and says, "Fine." 

"You should get cleaned up," Derek says, eyes flickering down to Chris' shirt and hands. 

Chris avoids looking down, but he nods. "I'll take a shower," he says. "Make yourself comfortable." 

Derek looks around once Chris has disappeared down the corridor. It feels uncomfortably like he's intruding, seeing things he's never been meant to see. A werewolf in a hunter's base? Unheard of unless there were chains and wolfsbane involved. He's more used to the other way around, hunters invading his territory, his home, his den, smashing his keepsakes, killing his family and taking even the last of his dignity. 

Shaking his head a little, Derek takes off his jacket and drops it on top of Chris'. It shouldn't take the cops too long to identify Allison's body and the first stop they'll make will be here. He glances at the tv, but doesn't switch it on. If they pretend to be watching a movie, one innocent question about a plot point could trip them up and make the whole charade come crashing down. There are things that are easier to fake. 

Derek heads into the kitchen. The freezer is stocked with leftover food, neatly labeled and packaged. He takes out two large helpings of lasagna and pops them in the microwave. While the pasta is thawing, Derek finds a cheap bottle of red wine and some glasses. He pours half the bottle into the sink and then fills the two glasses, putting only a little bit into his own while filling Chris' nearly to the brink. He puts the half empty bottle on the table and finds everything he needs to set the table. By the time he's done, the table looks like he and Chris are in the middle of a nice meal. 

Chris comes into the room just as Derek sits down at the table. He takes in the set up and nods. "Looks good," he says. He sits down across from Derek and they sit in silence for a few minutes. It's one of the longest, most awkward silences Derek's ever experienced, but there's nothing to do but wait. He and Chris aren't the type to make small talk - and certainly not with each other. The thought of eating just one bite of the lasagna makes Derek's stomach turn. It smells nice, sure, but the way Chris is staring at his plate he's no doubt remembering the day he and Allison made and ate the lasagna, boxing the rest up for a day when neither of them had time to cook. 

The knock on the door startles both of them, even though they'd been waiting for it. 

"I'll go," Chris says. "Try and look less like I'm keeping you prisoner here." 

Derek looks up at him with blank eyes, eyebrows raised. 

Chris shakes his head, takes a breath and then heads for the door, his body language relaxed. Derek stares after him, feeling uncomfortable. That's the kind of acting ability that led him to unwittingly betray his family and get most of them killed. Seeing it now, in this situation, on another Argent? It doesn't sit well with him. Tilting his head a little, Derek listens in on the exchange at the door. 

Chris sounds like any parent who opens the door to a cop: a little exasperated and slightly worried. He gets quiet and intense at the appropriate moment like any good actor would, but Derek can hear Chris' heart beat. It's racing, completely at odds with his calm, worried exterior. 

Derek throws his napkin onto the table and heads to the door, arriving just as Chris leads a stony faced deputy and none other than Agent McCall into the living room. Chris is pale and shaken, looking like he's seen a ghost. Derek can't tell if he's still acting or if the reality of the situation is catching up to him for the first time tonight.

"Is everything all right?" 

"Something happened to Allison," Chris said. 

Derek hates himself a little, but he too has a role to play, so he turns to the unwelcome visitors. "Is she okay?" 

"I'm afraid not," Agent McCall says. 

"She's dead," Chris says, quietly, staring ahead with unseeing eyes. 

_Definitely not acting any more,_ Derek decides. He puts his hand on Chris' shoulder and gently pushes him down onto the sofa. Chris ends up half sitting on their jackets, but he doesn't look like he cares - or like he even notices. Keeping his hand there for a few moments longer, Derek looks at McCall, eyebrows raised. 

"Deputy," McCall says. "Why don't you keep Mr. Argent company for a second while I talk to Mr. Hale?" 

The deputy readily agrees and Derek looks down at Chris. Their eyes meet briefly. Chris' heart is still beating too fast for his semi-catatonic state to be a complete act, but he is definitely more in control than the deputy or McCall suspect. Derek slowly pulls his hand back, brushing his thumb over Chris' neck. It's just a small gesture of comfort, something his dad used to do when he or his siblings were upset. Derek doesn't really think about it, but then he turns and sees McCall watching them with a thoughtful look. 

He leads McCall into kitchen - no use in prepping the room if they're not going to use it to solidify their alibi. "What happened?" he asks as soon as they are out of earshot. 

"We got an anonymous tip and subsequently found her body. It looks like she was stabbed," McCall says. His eyes rove around the room, taking in the nearly empty plates, the wine bottle and the casserole dish that Derek had put most of the lasagna into. 

"You know I have to ask you this, but--"

"Where were we tonight?" Derek interrupts him. "We were right here," he says, hoping he's not putting too much indignation into his voice. Playing the part too well will just make him suspicious. 

"Mr. Hale," McCall says, "I was under the impression that your family and Mr. Argent's family weren't exactly friendly." 

It's not a question, but McCall looks like he's expecting an answer anyway. 

Derek shrugs. "That's true. But Chris never did anything to me and I never did anything to him. It's kind of stupid to hang on to old family feuds when you're not even sure there's a reason for them." 

"Kate Argent killed your family," McCall says casually. "I'd call that reason enough." 

Derek wants to wolf out and sink his fangs into McCall's throat. Instead, he crosses his arms and says, "The feud is a lot older than that. I'm pretty sure whatever Kate's motivation was, that needless feud had something to do with it." 

"And you two just decided to put the past behind you? Today of all days?" 

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Derek grits out. 

"It is when a little girl is dead and her dad is having a romantic dinner with the guy holding a grudge against the Argent family." 

Before Derek has a chance to think of a good response, Chris says from the doorway, "I'm not sure exactly what it is you're trying to imply here, Agent, but Derek has been here all evening. My family and his never saw eye to eye. But after my wife… died, Allison and I didn't see the point in letting the past dictate our lives. So what if my great-grandfather had a problem with Derek's great-grandmother? They're not here. But we are." He looks at Derek, his face unreadable. "It was high time we buried the hatchet, and once we did, we discovered we had more in common than not." 

_Yeah,_ Derek thinks bitterly, _like lots of dead family members._

"And now," Chris continues, "if you don't have any other question, I need to make a few calls. Get the arrangements taken care of." 

"Of course, We'll call if we have more questions," McCall says, letting his eyes flit from Chris to Derek and back again. "I'm sorry for you loss." 

It sounds utterly insincere and Derek sees the flash of anger in Chris' eyes. Without thinking, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Chris' wrist. It's enough to distract Chris and he gives Derek a startled look that he hardly notices due to the fact that McCall caught the movement on his way out of the room and no doubt misinterpreted it like everything else he saw between him and Chris. 

"They're gone," Derek says when he hears the front door fall shut, the only heartbeats in the place Chris' and his own. 

Chris' shoulders sag and he sinks down on the nearest chair. Derek, not knowing what else to do, starts cleaning up. When the kitchen is spotless, Chris' cheeks are streaked with tears but he hasn't moved, so Derek sits down across from him.

"It's okay. You don't have to sit with me." 

Derek nods, but he stays right where he is. He doesn't have the words to explain why he needs to stay. He at least had Laura. He had then-Deputy Stilinski who made sure they had something to eat and drink while they waited for the social worker. He had the doctor at the hospital who gave them the news that Peter wasn't going to wake up, who made sure they knew what options they had and didn't talk to them like they were little kids. 

A year ago he would have walked away without a glance. He might have thrown in a "good riddance" just to be spiteful. A year ago, all Argents had been his enemies, one worse than the next with their poison bullets and razor-sharp daggers. A year ago, he'd been a different man.

"You're not my enemy anymore," Chris had said, sounding tired and resigned. But it's not until Derek sees the man broken down and crying over his dead daughter that he realizes it's true. Chris Argent isn't the enemy. 

So while Chris quietly tries to compartmentalize his latest loss and to compose himself enough to carry on fighting this war, Derek stays right where he is, his elbows on the edge of the table and his hands folded, staring at the walls of the Argent kitchen as they wait for the sun to rise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
